


A Pair of Blue Eyes

by terracottaheart



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, M/M, Through the Years, noels pov, smut along the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-01-05 18:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21213482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terracottaheart/pseuds/terracottaheart
Summary: There are disappointments which wring us, and there are those which inflict a wound whose mark we bear to our graves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write a multiple part story for a while and I’ve been reading A Pair of Blue Eyes by Thomas Hardy (hence the title), and it’s kind of inspired this just a little... future chapters might have a bit of Liam’s POV but it’s doubtful cause I like writing for Noel. And I’m hoping this gives maybe a different insight to how Noel feels about the whole situation as the story progresses...just my take on how he would deal with it and deal with Liam, blah blah blah. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I’m really excited for this!

They say eyes are a window to the soul, but the first time I looked into yours, I thought I was looking in a mirror, so I don’t believe it because we couldn’t be more different. 

Everyone says I wanted a little sister instead. Maybe this never would have happened if you were a girl, maybe it would have. Maybe I’d be okay with it if you were a girl, maybe I’d be okay with a lot of things if you were a girl. But you aren’t, you never were, no matter how bad I wanted you to be; you’re a boy, a man only by means of age, and the reality is that I’ve fucked my little brother. 

I remember when you were four. Your cheeks were fat and rosy, your hair was always in your eyes, your voice had that childish softness but you still liked to call me an arse, even at that young of an age. I guess you got that from me. You always have to copy me, always gotta be in my shadow, but that’s fine, I’ll protect you from the light. I’ve always tried to. 

You don’t look like that boy anymore. You’re skinny and tall, your hair isn’t so bright anymore, and your voice is deeper; the only time I recognize it is when you call me all those names you used to. 

The only thing that hasn’t changed is those eyes. That blue that sends a crack down my spine and shatters every wall I’ve built around myself. That blue that makes me want to build those walls back up again. That rim of black around them, seeming to electrocute the color of your eyes, the long lashes creating a facade of innocence. You flutter them at me the same way you did when you were little, and I hate myself for being so weak. 

And when you cry — when they’ve turned the color of the sky because of the redness engulfing the white. Nothing is prettier. Nothing is more painful. It’s a rare occurrence, and it’s one I live for. Do you cry for me? Who do you cry for, Liam?

—

_“Let me have one!” You shriek, and I want to hit you for being so loud, so irritating, but I refrain because I’m not  him , I don’t ever want to be him. _

_I’m eating chocolate covered something or another, mam got them from a neighbor, and you’ve decided that you want one just because you’ve seen me eating them. Only two days ago, you thought they were the most disgusting thing._ Wait until you see the person I really am. 

_“Thought you didn’t like ‘em,” I mutter, and the football game that’s playing is much more intriguing than your consistent whining, even if it is some team from on the other side of the continent. _

_“I do like ‘em, Noel! Give me one or I’ll tell mam.”_

_“I’m so scared.” _

_You let out another squeal, sounding like a dying animal, and I wish I was roadkill because I wouldn’t have to be here with you and I wouldn’t have to hear you. A little sister wouldn’t act like this. You run off to god knows where, and I wish I cared enough to follow you, make sure you don’t get into trouble, but I turn the volume up and shove another handful into my mouth. _

_Only you’re back ten minutes later, and you’ve got your pajamas on backwards, but at least you’ve put them on without me having to tell you. I think you’ve brushed your hair too, and I can’t remember being six years old and brushing my own hair. It’s a game you play: make my life easier and you get what you want. I don’t give you enough credit, you’re a smart kid. _

_“Can I please ‘ave one, Noel?” I look at you as you curl up against my side, and your eyelashes are dancing across your skin, and my breath is caught in my throat, so I only pass you the bag and look away. You spend the rest of the game eating all of the candies, and I spend the rest of the game trying to slow my heart rate. _

—

I write in blue ink because it reminds me of you. I write the things I can never say to you, things the sickest people would cower at the mention of. 

Why did you do this to me, Liam? 

Is it the same for you?

Please say yes. 

_Don’t let me go through this alone._


	2. Chapter 2

You’ve turned fourteen. Everything about you is changing. You’re  angrier than ever, more defiant than ever, more annoying than ever, more enticing than ever.

I see the hurt in your eyes when I leave a room as soon as you enter. You don’t understand. You don’t understand that I can’t be around you without the thoughts invading every nerve in my body. I can’t be around you, see those eyes looking at me, see that tongue move over your lips because they’re chapped from the heavy winds, see the way your cheeks flush from playing ball with your friends, and the way your breath gets caught when you try to speak. I think of these things in other circumstances, circumstances where you lie under me, pale skin open like a canvas. 

I can’t remember when I started having these thoughts, or, really, when I started allowing myself to venture into these thoughts, to turn them into mental stories that won’t ever fucking end. Must’ve been when you were around twelve. The thought makes my stomach turn. So innocent, so fucking  _young_ , and I defile you in my head, yet I blame it on you. 

You follow me around today, though. We walk through town, and sometimes your hand grazes mine. I look to you to see if it’s an accident, to see if you even notice. I don’t think you do, so I calm down and tell myself that normal people don’t think about holding hands with their brothers. 

“Gimme a cigarette, Noel,” you say, and I shake my head, but you just shove your hand into my pocket to pull the pack out, and my body has never reacted so violently to someone else’s touch. “‘M not a kid, y’know.”

You are. 

“Just don’t tell mam.”

“I’m not fuckin’ stupid.”

You are. 

“Come on,” you grab my wrist and pull me over to a park bench. I’m thankful to not have to depend on my legs anymore because one more touch from you and I’d collapse, I know it. I wonder if you would too. 

We watch the people walk by, and you fiddle with the fag, you haven’t lit it yet, maybe because you don’t have a lighter. I’m nice enough to pull one out and light it for you, mainly because I want to see your lips wrap around something. 

“You got any of that stuff?”

You’re asking about coke. We did it two weeks ago, I didn’t want you to, but you never really leave me an option.  _I’ll fuckin’ tell mam if ya don’t let me ‘ave_ _any. _ Of course I don’t want her fucking knowing, and you know that. So I gave in and let you have some, and you were surprisingly good on it. A little more talkative. If I was a girl, we probably would have fucked that night. Among other reasons, we didn’t. 

“Yeah.” I have my own cigarette now because watching you suck in is driving me to places I don’t want to visit. Not today, with you beside me, out in public. 

“Let’s do some, man. C’mon.”

“Wait ‘til we get home.” 

I don’t know why I give in again. Maybe it’s seeing how red your lips are from the constant biting and licking you do to them, maybe it’s the way you glance at me through those dark eyelashes, and you look so much like a bird sometimes that I’m confused as to whether maybe I do have a little sister. Maybe it’s a combination of everything, the past fourteen years of my life. 

You don’t mention it at all the rest of the day, and I’m shocked because you have a hard time keeping your mouth shut. But it’s nice. We sit on the floor in our room, and I cut a few lines on top of an old textbook that I forgot to return, trying to ignore the way your eyes burn into me. 

“You first.”

You lean down and sniff it up, and then I do the same, and you again, and I again. It’s beautiful watching you. I can see the effect it has on you, like some kind of glow surrounds you. I collect some of the residue on my finger and pry your jaw open with my left hand to spread it on your gums, and Jesus fucking Christ, you close your lips around my thumb, and I feel your tongue doing things I can only imagine on other places of my expanse of flesh. 

You’re too young to be snorting coke, and you’re too young to know how to suck on something, but you’ve just done both, and I’m fucking crumbling. 

An hour later and we’re leaning against the wall, sat on my bed with The Queen is Dead playing. You’ve got the sleeve on your lap because you wanted to read about it, you said, and I don’t care, you look happy, and I feel happy. Your head is on my shoulder, and my arm is resting on your leg as I tap my fingers along your thigh to the beat. I try to ignore the fact that you’re hard, but you don’t have any qualms about it, and you’ve moved your leg so my hand slips to the inside of your thigh. My blood is boiling in the greatest way. 

I hear your breath stop for a second as I accidentally move my elbow along your hard-on, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that today is just one big dream, taunting me. “Sorry,” I mumble, and I try to move away so you don’t see how I’m starting to get hard too, but you just follow me, and we lay down on my too-small bed, arms touching. 

“This one’s fuckin’ sad.” 

Yeah, it is, but I don’t skip it because I like the feeling it gives me to look into your eyes while  _I don’t know where else I can go_ is playing from behind us. Your eyes are brighter, bigger, heavier due to the drugs, and you look even more beautiful, which isn’t possible, it’s not. I don’t get you, Liam, I don’t fucking understand. 

I’m starting to think again, I don’t want to, the drugs haven’t worn off yet, but the thoughts are rising and scaring me and —

Your lips meet mine for the first time, and I swear it’ll be my last kiss ever.

“Never kissed a lad before,” you sigh, looking too pleased as you pull back, but I’m on you again, rolling on top of you and kissing you deep because this is all I have ever wanted since I was able to recognize thoughts as desires and desires as the means to life. 

Nothing has ever felt the way your lips feel against mine, dry and raw, and nothing has ever felt the way your hips feel against mine, all bone against bone, and if there wasn’t fabric in between us, I’d come at the mere connection of skin. 

_Give me Liam, Today. Today, please don’t take him away. Let this last forever. Let him stay. _


	3. Chapter 3

I’ve got on the same sweater you used to wear when you said you couldn’t find yours, even though I always saw the sleeve peeking out from under your bed. It still fits me, but I imagine how it’d be tighter around you than it was then. How your arms would stretch, and it would probably show off the skin on your hips, and I think about how I’d give anything to see that. 

If I close my eyes and breathe in deep enough, I swear I can still catch your scent, even though it feels like the last time you wore it was centuries ago. We were young and on the back of a bus at four in the morning with everyone else asleep, and we kissed until the sun came up and pretended to be asleep when Tony came to say good morning. When he left, we kissed again and I held your hand under my chin until I woke up five hours later. 

I remember when you were really young, before the band but after you’d started growing hair on your jaw, and you’d wear this sweater with the sleeves pulled over your fists. I’d always fall in love with you all over again when you came down the stairs, sleepy and stumbling and looking too small and cozy with the navy blue jumper engulfing you. 

—

_“Noel,” you whisper, curling up against my side while I watch the snow fall outside, my bones shivering, but you warm my blood, so it’s a good balance. _

_“Yeah?” My fingers are in your hair, and I feel your breath on my neck. _

_“Love you.” You’re always like this when you’re tired, and you’re exhausted right now from our late night out, but you needed it, and I’ve never needed something more than I need the way you hold on to me right now. _

_“Yeah?” I smile, and I hear you hum against my skin. _

_“Mhm. Loads, man.” Your voice is so soft, barely there, and I want to drink it in, let my soul adopt you. _

_“Love you too,” I kiss the top of your head and pull you closer while you pull the sleeves further over your hands, curling them under your chin. You almost look like a baby doll, and blue has never looked better._

—

Everything is blue and everything is you. 

I take the sweater off and shove it under the bed, and I forget about it for a few weeks until I see the sleeve poking out. My heart cracks a little more, and when I close my eyes, I’m back in our room and you’re on my bed, smiling and pulling me towards you with hands covered in my sweater, your own slipping out from under your bed. 


	4. Chapter 4

_Los Angeles, September 1994: “We made our way to the Viper Room, with Liam and me leading the way while the rest of the band were a couple of minutes behind us. The two of us entered the club and waited just inside of the rest. Pap. Pap, pap. Gunfire rang from outside the door. Everyone in the club foyer dived for cover. Liam looked at me with panic in his eyes. ‘They’ve shot our Noel,’ he yelled, as he turned 360 degrees, unsure of what to do...”_

\- - -

_You scream at me as soon as I walk in about where the fuck have I been, why didn’t I get here on time, and I think that I oughta be used to this by now, the verbal attack, but the way your voice cracks makes this time different. _

_“Calm the fuck down, what’s going on?” _

_“They— I thought that you’d been —“ you stop and shake your head, and I see your eyes are glazed over. My heart breaks, and I wish people weren’t around so I could touch you the way I so desperately want to. _

_“Come on,” I grab your wrist like you’d done to me at the park so many years ago, and I take you over to a corner, secluded, dark, and I make you look at me. Your eyes are bluer from a few tears that have fallen, tears that you’ve tried to hide because you’ve said before that rockstars don’t cry and they certainly don’t fucking cry in front of people. I want to reach out, hold you, tell you I’m here, that I’ve got you. I know it won’t mean much because I’ve been the one to make you cry so many times, but I mean it, Liam, today, tomorrow, forever. I’ve got you. _

_“We got here and there — there were gunshots, and you weren’t here yet, and you were supposed to be here, Noel, you were supposed to fuckin’ be here —“_

_“I’m here, aren’t I? Come on, there’s nothing to worry about, alright? I’m here, nobody fuckin’ shot me down,” I try to calm you, but your jaw is still twitching, and I know you’re trying to not cry anymore because you’re scared I’ll make fun of you, but I won’t. I promise I won’t, not tonight. _

_“Just fuck... fuckin’ thought ‘bout you leavin’ me, man. I can’t take it, Noel. You can’t fuckin’ leave me, alright? Never.”_

_You’re so young and so naive sometimes, I want to protect you from the world, from reality, but I nod and turn my body to hide the way I grab your thumb, squeezing it as gentle as I can. _

_“Never.”_

—

That night is a blur to me. You wanted to get pissed because you were still shaken up about the whole thing, so we did, and we stumbled back to the hotel, making out along the way behind buildings and trees, laughing like two drunken teenagers until you got upset again, eyes threatening to spill as you whispered over and over  _don’t leave me, Noel_.  I fucked you nice and slow and kissed you sweet and called you all the names I wish I could call you everyday. 

The next morning, I was gone. I had shit to do and you got pissed at me, so to get even or whatever the fuck you saw it as, you brought two girls along with you back to our room and the whole night I laid listening to your fake moans, wanting to laugh because I know they’d never make you cum the way I do. You thought you were so clever, but all it did was fill my ego when I saw you looking at me while pounding into the redhead, silently begging me to do the same to you. 

I wish I could go back to that day. I’d wait until you woke up, I’d kiss your head, I’d tell you I love you. We’d go to sleep with each other that night too, I’d give you a proper fuck, unlike those girls. But this is the present and this can’t exist without the past, and maybe the future requires it. So I continue on with the regret of not giving you everything you need, but I’ve told you so many times, Liam, so many times, and I’ve written it in songs and screamed it at you and carved it into your skin.

_My heart will never be a home_


	5. Chapter 5

You’re doing a line off of my cock. We both laughed when you suggested it, and I didn’t really believe you, but I shook my head and said _yeah, whatever, kid_ and I thought that was the end of it, didn’t expect you to bring it up again, but you were pushing me down onto the bed as soon as we entered the hotel room, and you were tugging my jeans down before grabbing the little baggie. I’ve never seen so much concentration in you before, but you’re making sure not a single speck falls onto the sheets, pouring out an almost perfect line on my half-hard cock, and I’m embarrassed that I’m even turned on by all of this.

“Kinda tickles,” I laugh, and I’m so high but you look so good, especially when you’re sniffing, the drug disappearing into your system, and I feel like God.

You pull back, eyes glossy and bright, and you smile at me, looking blissed out as ever. “Fuckin’ A, man… ain’t nothin’ like it,” you sigh, leaning down to suck on the tip of my cock, and there’s some residue there, you grunt at the taste, making my cock twitch, and it’s coming to life right under your tongue. I always feel more alive when you touch me.

“Liam”

“Here,” you reach over for another baggie and lick the tip of your finger before collecting some of white on it, holding it up to my nose. I wonder how you always know what I need. 

I sniff and close my eyes, exhaling deep as I run my fingers through your hair. It’s so soft, you’re so soft, this moment is so soft, a dream that I’m scared to wake up from.

“C’mere.”

You grin, dazed, and crawl up onto my lap, arms wrapping around my neck while I kiss you. It’s slow and I taste every inch of your mouth, trace your lips with my tongue, suck on your teeth, anything I can to get more of you because I _need_ it, Liam, I need more and more, and nothing will ever be enough.

“Noel,” you start moving your hips, our dicks rubbing together, and I’m gone, my mind isn’t here, my soul’s left my body, and it’s everything I can do to function.

“Yeah?”

“D’ya love me?” Your head is on my shoulder, and my hands are on your arse, squeezing, kneading, pulling apart to let my cock rub against your cleft, and we both groan from the feeling. Too much.

“Liam…”

“D’you, Noel? Do you?”_ You know I do._ You know, but you always ask because you know it hurts me to say it.

“Just -”

“Say it. Tell me.” You stop moving, and I grunt, annoyed and confused and heartbroken and too high for this.

“You fuckin’ know I do, kid.. You know - you just. You’re my fuckin’ _world_, alright?”   
You look at me, and I’ve never seen your eyes so blue, like my love electrocutes you - _god_, I fucking hope it does.

“Love you,” you tell me as if I don’t know it, and I kiss you to let you know I do, grabbing your hips in hopes that you’ll start moving again. And you do, quick and desperate and needing it all, and I would slip right inside you if this didn’t feel so good. _My fucking angel. _

“Need you forever,” I whisper on your neck, wishing it would tattoo your skin, as my arms wrap around you tight. I’m so scared to lose you, and, _fuck_, my whole body feels like it’s shutting down with the thoughts and doubts and fear, so I have to turn us over, I have to be on top of you, shield you from everything, from the entire universe. Just want your focus on me. All the time.

You whine, that deep little whine you used to let out so many years ago, when we were too young and stupid to know what this would do to us, and it kills me, but I just make sure my cock is still rubbing against yours because it takes the pain away for now.

“Fuck, Noel.. I - I.. touched m’self this mornin’. Feel it,” you mumble, and I think it’s some sick joke, I swear you’re sixteen again and we’re being quiet so mam won’t hear, but you’re twenty-four and no one is around. My breath is heavy and shaking as I reach down between your legs to feel your hole, and I nearly come as I slip a finger in so fucking _easy_. 

“Liam, kid - baby, _fuck_,” I move us so we’re on our sides, hitching your leg over my hip as I slide my hand around your back to slip my finger back in, my fingertip prodding at your spot, my cock still hitting yours. The noises you let out make the eternity I’ll spend in hell worth it.

“More, _more_,” you pant, and I add another finger, my feet slipping on the sheets as my stupid fucking caveman animalistic need kicks in full drive. 

“Close, come on… come on,” I encourage you. My eyes stare into yours as my other arm wraps around your neck, my fingers tight in your hair to pull your head back so I can see your eyes. “Love you so fuckin’ much, alright?”

You whimper and nod, and your mouth falls open and eyes roll back while your body tenses up. I feel you tighten around my fingers and I feel you coat my stomach and my cock in your cum, and soon I’m doing the same to you. We’re mixing, we’re drowning, we’re suffocating, and we’re colliding, hearts, souls, bodies, everything. This is everything. You are everything.

Coming down is another high. The way you hold onto me, the way your breath feels on my mouth, the way your eyelashes flutter against my cheek. Feeling your heart race against my chest, as if it’s trying to leave your body and enter mine, and if it could, I’d let it. I’d let you live in my body, inhabit my bones, drink from my veins. My body is your temple, and your soul is my messiah. 


	6. Chapter 6

I was going to turn it off, not in the mood for folky hippie shit, until I heard a few words, and then I was taken back to you. Sometimes I think the radio is my enemy. Sometimes I think you are. 

I had to go straight to the record shop and get the album, three guys sitting on a couch looking like a bunch of right cunts staring at me, and I wondered what you had done to me. Why the fuck was I buying it? Because of you. Because every single word of that fucking song is you and me and everything in between. 

_Remember what we've said and done and felt about each other_

Now I’m sitting by the player, watching the album spin round and round, wishing a needle was digging into my skin instead of the pressed vinyl. My chest is as tight as it was when I found out you were engaged, when I found out you were giving yourself to someone else, taking a part of yourself away from me. 

_Don't let the past remind us of what we are not now_

I wish I couldn’t, but the past is the only way I can have you. The only way I can make it to tomorrow. You are just the same as you were then, but you are completely different, and I wonder if I ever knew you at all. 

_I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are_

_You make it hard_

I will always belong to you, and you told me once that you would always belong to me, but that was a lie, wasn’t it? You weren’t mine when you called to tell me you’d gotten married, you weren’t mine when you became her fucking breeder, and then hers, and then hers, and I wish for a world where I could put a baby in you and take your soul and lock you away as mine. Get you a fucking collar or something, put a ring on your finger, kiss you good morning. Every morning. 

_Tearing yourself away from me, now you are free_

When I told you I couldn’t do it anymore, I swear you looked relieved. Like you’d been waiting for that moment for years. Maybe you did. Maybe you just couldn’t bring yourself to hurt me, and fuck you for that. Fuck you for everything. _Fuck you fuck you fuck you. _

Come back to me. 

_Fear is the lock and laughter the key to your heart_

Maybe if I hadn’t been so scared, maybe I’d you hadn’t been so willing. Maybe if things were so fucking different, completely turned around, if the year became one big opposite day. Maybe thenwe could have worked, and maybe you could be here with me right now, maybe I wouldn’t have bought this album because I’d have you to listen to. Maybe you’d buy it and make me listen to this song because it reminds you of us. Maybe. A lot of fucking maybes. 

_Can I tell it like it is? _

_Listen to me baby_

_It's my heart that's suffering it's a-dying_

_And that's what I have to lose_

I always told you I didn’t need you — when we were in the middle of an argument, which was way too fucking often, or when I’d just wanna hurt you. I could only tell you what I really felt when we were both so drunk that there was no way in hell we’d remember anything the next day. A part of me believes you always remembered, though. I did. I do. 

But I need you. I need you more than I need anything in this life and in the next, and, fuck, I don’t even believe in that shit but you make me believe in everything. God doesn’t exist, there’s no fucking way, but then I see you and I wonder how there isn’t magic somewhere, isn’t some mystical fucking forest with fairies and talking trees and the fountain of youth. Something had to bring you to me, something had to take a lot of fucking pity on me to keep bringing you back. 

_Chestnut brown canary_

_Ruby throated sparrow_

_I miss you I miss I miss you_. Come back. Just once. Once more and I can die happy. I’ll have my fix. You’re my fucking drug, and my hands are shaking. I’m a pathetic fucking abuser, and you’re my only cure. Your voice in my ear, embedded on my skin. Fill my veins with that  _I love you_ in your too-sexy-fucked-out little voice. 

_Change my life, make it right_

I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll let it all go, I’ll be that  one.  The one you always wanted. I’ll be your protector and your lover, I’ll be your husband, I’ll be your baby, I’ll call you mine, I’ll hold your hand, I’ll do everything I never could, I’ll say everything I never would. Just come back to me, make everything okay. 

You can be my Judy Blue Eyes. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Why are you readin’ that?” 

“Everyone likes it, so it’s gotta have something, right?” I shrug and you scoff, pulling the book from my hands to throw it to the floor. I don’t really know why I’m reading Romeo and Juliet, don’t know why I’m reading at all when I’ve got you here. 

“Shakespeare is shit. We’re the greatest love story ever told, yeah?” I look up at you and you’re smiling, looking so tall from where you’re stood over me by the side of the bed. You’re wearing a simple black T-shirt and black running shorts but you look like a fucking god or something, and I hate you and love you more than anything in this life and all the others. 

“We aren’t a fuckin’ love story. Don’t start with that gay shit.” 

“Yeah, we are, Noel. We’d be in the fuckin’ classics if we wrote a book. We’d put Fizaraldi or whatever his fuckin’ name is out of business.”

“It’s Fitzgerald, and he’s dead.”

“Then we’re one step ahead already, eh?”

I don’t want to laugh but you make it so difficult with the stupid shit you say, and the way you smile at me makes it worth it anyways. I feel like a fifteen year old kid when you lean down to kiss me, too giddy and too happy, and my head spins as I catch your scent, fresh out of the shower. Why do I feel most at home when I’m four thousand miles away? Why is it only home when I’m with you?

It’s eight o’clock, no partying for us tonight, not in the mood. We’ve been coked up most of the day anyways, and there were too many girls, too many fans, too many people that weren’t you trying to get my attention. I could see in your eyes that you hated it, and I hope you saw the same in mine. 

I’ve gotten too soft these past few weeks, but we’ve been doing good. A little too good. I’m starting to get anxious, superstitious. Something bad is going to happen soon, I know it, and you know it too, but you don’t care as much. You just tell me to get over it,  _I’m right here, focus on me, yeah? _

You don’t know how to handle it, I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve changed, I’m weird, I’m awkward, I’m so fucking affectionate that it makes me want to vomit. But you love it, I know you do. I see the way your cheeks flush when I call you pretty, I see how you try to not smile when I grab your hand, I feel your heart speed up when I hold you close at night. It’s like you’re my fucking bird, and in my demented and distraught fucking soul, you are. 

“...but I guess your songs are like books, aren’t they?” You’ve been talking, but I haven’t been listening. You’ve made yourself comfortable on my lap, and I feel like Jesus himself. 

“They’re whatever you want them to be.” 

“Yeah... your songs are books, and we’ve outsold every author in the fuckin’ universe.” Your smile is bright and so are your eyes, and I’d give anything to make sure they never dull. 

“We have?”

“You fuckin’ know we have.” The next album will be made of your laugh and your laugh only if I have any say in it. “C’mon. Kiss.” I grin and lean up to kiss you, and you melt into my skin, burning so hot, engraving me, and I ask myself if this is what true love feels like. Your bones whisper yes and I am trembling.


End file.
